Winter's Morn
by Doricaa.reni
Summary: Winter has finally reached King's Landing. Sansa remembers the old times. One shot. Rated T for language.


**Winter's Morn**

When Sansa woke up, her first thought was that she was back in Winterfell. The air was cool, the sky was clouded over, and as she got out of bed and slowly dressed, she quickly lit herself a fire to stop herself shivering. Crossing the cold stone floor, she leaned out of the window.

Everything was white.

Blinking several times to make sure she wasn't still dreaming, Sansa gently brushed her hand over the ledge of the window. Her fingers came to stop at a long, thin icicle, almost the length of her forearm. For some reason, she felt the tears welling in her eyes, as she slowly snapped off the icicle and clutched it in her fingers.

Winter had come to King's Landing.

Sansa quickly donned a fur stole around her shoulders, as she made her way down to breakfast with the Queen. She would have been much happier eating alone, but of late Cersei had become more paranoid than usual. She couldn't help feeling amused at watching people slip and fall in the courtyard; they were clearly not used to this kind of weather. Probably for the first time since she had first been incarcerated in the Red Keep, she felt glad to be a Stark.

The Queen was in an even worse mood than usual. 'Sit,' she said irritably, gesturing to a plain wooden chair. Usually this chair would have a cushion or two, but Sansa noticed that today it was only the Queen's chair with the cushions, all the others were bare. Perhaps Cersei blamed Sansa for this sudden change in the weather.

'Good morning, your grace,' Sansa smiled politely at the woman she both loathed and pitied. 'I trust you slept well?'

Cersei scowled; Sansa's words were but empty courtesies and they both knew it. 'I'm glad to see that you're still keeping up this pretence of politeness. If you're going to pretend to take an interest in my well-being, at least make it less obvious.'

Sansa kept quiet, Lannisters were lions, and lions had eruptive tempers.

'Be thankful that Joff hasn't noticed,' Cersei continued, 'But then he likes hearing pretty words from someone he will soon stick his cock into, whether the girl means the pretty words or not.'

Sansa looked away. She _really _didn't want reminding of this. Since Stannis Baratheon's siege had failed, all she had heard morning and night was plans for the wedding. And she didn't want any further reminders of the duties of a married woman. Luckily for her, any further reminders from Cersei were quickly forgotten as a sudden blast of wind blew a small heap of snow into the room.

'This weather really is shit,' concluded Cersei. 'And whichever fool left that window open will be whipped until the blood runs off his back.'

'Winter has come, your grace,' Sansa pointed out. It was a perfectly harmless statement, but nevertheless Cersei reached out and slapped her. Sansa looked at her in surprise, her cheek stinging, her eyes watering. The queen had never slapped her before.

'_Never_ say that again in my hearing or in anyone else's,' Cersei hissed. 'Be glad that you are a Stark, because anyone else would have been executed … now where was I? Oh yes, this shitty weather. How do you Starks cope with it, day in, day out? No wonder you are all sullen or mad. The king has gone out for a few hours, and you had best pray to those gods of yours that he is in a good mood when he comes back.'

Sansa wasn't even listening anymore. If this was Winterfell, then everyone would have charged out to play in the snow. She remembered Robb and Arya's furious snow ball fight, and Arya's aim had been so bad that instead of hitting Robb, the snow had caught Bran full in the face and had gone down his neck. Robb and Arya had thought it was hilarious; even Sansa, observing from the window, couldn't help smiling. And it _had _been funny, only afterwards Bran had caught a chill and Father had been annoyed. She sighed. She would have given anything to see them all again – even Arya! If they ever saw one another again, Sansa would forgive her for everything. But everyone believed she was dead. Sansa refused to believe that. Or rather, she didn't _want _to believe it. Although Arya had been irritating, Sansa had never wished any serious harm on her.

Her reverie was rudely interrupted by the noisy return of her husband-to-be. 'SANSA!' he bellowed, again and again, 'SANSA, YOU COLD WINTER BITCH, GET OVER HERE NOW!'

Cersei smirked at her. 'You obviously haven't been praying hard enough.'

Reluctantly, Sansa rose from the table, but somehow, she couldn't stop the tiny smile on her face. Winter had come, oh yes it had … and she couldn't wait for Joffrey to freeze in it.


End file.
